"Well, that just doesn't pluck my
                                                                heartstrings."
He said at the girl.
Those ruby lips pursed
and he wanted to part them roughly
                                                                with his tongue.
She flipped her honey hair
sending a wave of cigarette smoke
                                                               and expensive
                                                                                    perfume

filling his eyes
and his head
and his mouth
The urge to grab a handful
and push her to her knees
                                                               grew.

He grabbed her hand
bringing it gently to his lips
looking into her brown eyes, he

                                                             winked.

This music between you and me
is meant to be played
by your heart and mine.
It was meant to make us move and dance,
to pull from us the passions
that make our souls alive.
It was meant to crescendo
at inopportune times.
It was meant to go flat
or strike a wrong chord,
to fall quiet
so no one can hear it
but us.
It was meant to be erratic
and cacophonous.
It was meant to be peaceful
and harmonious.
This music between you and me,
it was meant to sound like this.

The pillows you lay your head on
at night are filled with bugs
Their marching puts you to sleep. You pull
your dead self over your
dying self, warming your living
self, warning your living self of the
dangers of
making love or searching out the familiar.
The familiar lies like
the drugs you take forgetting your feelings.
What you feel is a truth. What you feel.
What are you feeling?
Feeling down, feeling dragged?
It's Dragsville man
the only way out of this prison is to dig.
Ya dig?
No not you dig
They dig,
and you just lay down. You lay down
and rest in your bed with your
pillows.